Welcome to Stalag 13
by WhatsOnTap
Summary: Colonel Hogan receives orders from London: a new team member is being assigned to their operation. His role will force the Heroes to change their view of the war, and their reasons for fighting...


**Author: **WhatsOnTap

**Title: **Welcome to Stalag 13

**Rating/Warnings: **T. Coarse language. Descriptions of violence. Moderate adult themes.

**Pairing: **None

**Summary: **Colonel Hogan receives orders from London: a new team member is being assigned to their operation. His role will force the Heroes to change their view of the war, and their reasons for fighting...

**A/N: **Well, this is my first attempt at fanfic! This story was originally uploaded over a year ago, but I ran into some trouble with it and only got back to it recently. Sorry this chapter is pretty short, it's meant as a sort of prologue. Don't worry; the rest will be much longer! Please R&R, I'm always looking for feedback! Enjoy!

I: Orders from London

"Gin!" RAF Corporal Peter Newkirk exclaimed as he laid his cards on the table.

"Again? I was only one card away!" Sergeant Andrew Carter said, frustrated at losing another game to the Englishman.

"That's what, five to one now?"

Carter sighed and started shuffling the cards for another game. Both men looked up when they heard the bunk covering the tunnel slide up and Staff Sergeant James Kinchloe climbed out. "Where's Colonel Hogan? We got orders from London."

"In his quarters. I'll go get him, Kinch." Carter stood up and leaned into the Senior POW's quarters. A couple seconds later, Colonel Robert E. Hogan came into the common room.

"What've we got, Kinch?" He asked as he propped one leg up on the long table.

"Orders from London, sir. They've got a sniper they want in the camp and joining the operation."

Hogan frowned. "That's strange. We don't need a sniper." Kinch shrugged.

"They say he'll be a big help, Colonel. He's been taking out targets on the Eastern Front."

"The Eastern Front? He's Russian?" Corporal Louis Lebeau piped up.

"Didn't say." He reached over and handed the note to Colonel Hogan. Hogan read it over. "They want him picked up tonight one mile east of here; then contact 'em about how to help getting him captured."

"Hmm. Thanks, Kinch. Newkirk, Carter, you'll go out tonight and bring him in." Hogan ordered. "Kinch'll give you the recognition codes."

"Right, sir" Carter and Newkirk said in unison, still looking slightly puzzled.

* * *

A black-clad Newkirk warily opened the tree stump cover and climbed out of the tunnel; ducking to avoid the searchlights. He then opened it back up and motioned for Carter to climb out. Once he was out, the men took off through the woods in the direction of the rendezvous point. They walked in silence, occasionally ducking into the underbrush when they thought they heard a patrol. "What time do we have to be there, Newkirk?" "Ten. Don't worry, we're right on time. And Carter, Let me do the speaking this time. I don't want you to mess up the codes again." Carter nodded, embarrassed. Soon they reached the clearing where the meet was supposed to take place. Newkirk looked at his watch.

"Ten o' clock. 'E should be 'ere any minute." They settled back into the bushes.

After waiting for fifteen minutes, Newkirk was getting impatient. "Blimey! Where the bloody 'ell is 'e?"

"Maybe we should head back?" Carter was starting to shiver; his breath fogging in front of him.

"We'll wait another ten, then we'll 'ead back." The corporal scanned the trees; looking for any motion.

"Gee, I sure hope he gets here. The Colonel got pretty mad last time we missed someone."

"And who's fault was that, Carter?" Newkirk's cockney accent dripped with sarcasm.

"I knew those codes just five minutes before, I swear! And the only thing I did wrong was mess up 'Snow White' and…and…aw, I just had it!"

"Blimey Carter, 'ow d'you even remember 'ow to get dressed in the mornin'?"

"Well that's easy! You start with…" "Shut up, Carter." Newkirk rolled his eyes again. After another minute of silence, Carter sat up straighter. "Did you see that?" He asked, pointing across the clearing. "Yeah I did. 'old still." Newkirk pulled out his flashlight. He quickly flashed it three times. There was an answering signal from the trees across the clearing. A second later, another black-clad figure dropped from a tree and quickly but quietly crossed the small expanse of grass to meet them.

"You are Papa Bear?" The man asked in hushed Russian tones.

"Only if you promise not to steal me porridge."

All three of the men visibly relaxed when the correct codes were exchanged.

"There you are, mate. I'm Corporal Peter Newkirk, and this is Sergeant Andrew Carter."

"Hiya!" Carter waved with a grin. Newkirk glanced at him, annoyed at being interrupted, before turning back to the sniper.

"As I was sayin'; what took you so long?"

"Sorry, I had to avoid a German patrol," The sniper took off his hood.

"I'm Captain Pavel Antonovich Vasilyev, your sniper."


End file.
